Gundam Wing Playlist
by Valtana
Summary: A group of tiny fics all based on a song that randomly appeared on my playlist at one point or another.  Grouped together, various pairings. Rated for later chapters. Please R&R.


Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, and if I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction. I'd be making money off of it, instead of being a penniless sitar…I mean writer. –cough- Right. Well. That being said, everything belongs to someone who isn't me. I just love the fandom. Can ya dig it, yo?

Enjoy the Silence

Comfortable silence -

It was something that he had searched for from the earliest time that he could remember. He had longed for a silence in which he could find himself content, rather than stressed; at ease, rather than on edge. He wanted quiet moments that could speak volumes about the quality of life that he had achieved. Above all things, he wanted a silence that didn't accompany the cold, hard feeling of death pressed around his neck. This man needed a silence that didn't bring an empty, dark pressure with it, taking every ounce of his soul when it departed back into the flashing dream world form whence it came.

Sound followed change. Change often brought death in its wake. Flashes of burning homes and people running in the wake of an attack from the not-so-distant past were always accompanied by the screams of frightened women and children. The sound of buildings falling echoed off of the inside of his skull, drowning out his reason. Those were the sounds that woke him in the night, panting quietly, only to find that he was in the darkness of his room, safe and sound…in silence.

Now, to understand; he was not afraid of sound. It wasn't some deranged phobia that haunted him night and day. He'd lived in the real world long enough to understand that there were good sounds as well as bad ones. The sound of laughter did, indeed, make him smile if only for a moment. Music was one of his great passions; it was never a "bad" sound. However, Trowa Barton had learned to approach the idea of sound with a slight trepidation; sound could always be misconstrued to mean or be something else. Wails of excitement could just as easily be screams of pain or cries of pleasure. As with everything else, it was something to be approached with an open mind.

Though eloquent in speech, he rarely spoke unless it was to confirm or deny something or give simple instructions. He didn't understand why it was that he had such an aversion to words; there were a lot of things about himself that he failed to understand, and simply knew. He had never found reason to speak about things that weren't relevant to the conversation. A quiet quip was enough for him. Glib statements were something to be avoided, as they often came out the wrong way and gave an untrue impression. In the same sense, his silence was often seen as an impression unto itself, which wasn't always his desired affect.

That did not make him a man who didn't appreciate the words of others.

The truth was quite to the contrary – quick words were something to be respected and admired, if they accompanied a wit. Validation was not found in pointless musings spoken aloud. Words were not needed to make something true in Trowa's eyes. Dreams could be created and kept in one's mind, just as secrets could. The spectrum of life existed behind his eyes; every movement something to be enjoyed

It was something to marvel at, then, that his partner was warm and talkative. Quatre was a wealth of emotion and soft-spoken words. He wore his heart on his sleeve, baring his thoughts on a subject to any that would listen. Quatre expressed himself to a degree that Trowa would never know or understand in his lifetime. It was no surprise, however, that it wasn't the words that he found himself drawn to in his ideal mate.

It was quiet moments.

Moments spent in silence, in which he felt more at ease than he did in the most endearing of conversations. The looks that passed between them in calm moments made him feel more than he thought possible. There were private moments when only the beauty of the night spoke in a hushed whisper. When the moon's gentle kiss touched white shoulders, bare legs, and golden hair.

Those were the moments that Trowa held closest to his heart.


End file.
